


Jumpin Jack's Flash

by bicroft



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Drabble Collection, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-03 09:13:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 13,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14565792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bicroft/pseuds/bicroft
Summary: Drabble collection; cross posted from @sidsknees on tumblr





	1. Wine

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like an ass making this posting? But I wanted somewhere to put all my flash fic other than my tumblr tag Just In Case (tm)- of what? I don't know. But, Take These Lil Nuggets

For some reason, red wines always made Sid gigglier than whites.

Zhenya had never understood it, personally, but he marveled in it all the same. Some nights, it seemed as if Sid was stealing the color from each glass, his cheeks flushing darker and darker as the night went on.

“You’ve got soft shoulders,” Sid mumbled as they stumbled side by side back to their hotel rooms. “’S weird, because you’re so  _bony_  everywhere else, but you’ve got really nice shoulders.”

“Your drunk talk is worse than your sleep talk,” Zhenya snorted, arm wrapped around Sid’s middle, keeping them both upright- right in the middle, because Zhenya was drunk, but he still had control of his senses. “So silly, Sid.”

“I’ll show you silly.” Sid was back to giggling, turning his face into the crook of Zhenya’s neck. It made it even harder to walk, but Zhenya soaked it up anyway, like a rose in the desert.

“Your room,” he said when they stopped, nudging Sid. “Have to sleep, Sid, come on.”

It took Sid a few tries to key them into the room, giggling the whole time, but eventually he did. He took a few steps into the room, kicking off his shoes and throwing off his jacket before he faceplanted onto the bed. “I’m really sleepy.” His voice was muffled, and almost comically drowsy.

Zhenya bit back a laugh of his own. “I’m let you sleep, then, he said, starting back towards the door.

“No.”

Zhenya stopped in his tracks, but didn’t turn around. “No?”

“Stay,” Sid said. His voice was no longer muffled, and there was an edge of pleading in it. “Stay, Geno. Please?”

He shouldn’t. There’d be questions in the morning that he wasn’t ready to answer, and conversations he’d rather not have to follow- but, Zhenya had always been a man of impulse, so he turned on his heel, kicked off his shoes, threw his jacket over the chair, and made his way back to the bed. “Whatever you’re want, Sid.”

“You’re the  _best_ ,” Sid crowed, immediately repositioning himself to throw an arm around Zhenya’s waist and press his face back into the crook of Zhenya’s neck. Zhenya had half a mind to disagree with him, but, he didn’t know if he’d get to hear those words again after this, so, he bit his tongue.

“Sleep, Sid,” he said instead, and he didn’t seem to have to say much more, because Sid was out like a light within the minute, mumbling nonsense in Zhenya’s ear.

Zhenya should sleep too; he knew he should. But, he had Sid in his arms, finally, and maybe for the last time, and he couldn’t bring himself to close his eyes. Instead, he laid there and tried to take in the scene until his eyelids grew too heavy and fell of their own accord. He didn’t dream that night- he didn’t need to. What he woke up to was better.


	2. Smart

Sid never understood why people underestimated Geno so much.

Maybe it was easy to, he supposed; Geno liked to play dumber than he was, sometimes, to wriggle his way out of media obligations, and maybe it was easier for the the press to push him aside as a stranger from a strange land- but, still, Sid was never quite able to understand where people got off thinking Geno wasn’t smart.

Picking it up from his hockey, if nothing else, should be easy. There were few people Sid knew who could make plays like Geno did, reading the ice and moving the puck- and, Sid knew  _a lot_  of people who were known for just that. Besides that, though, it was the way Geno talked; even when his English still wasn’t the best, he made some of the wittiest jokes Sid had ever heard- though, that could very well be the rose-tinted bias of his eighteen year-old self’s crush, but, he didn’t think so.

Either way, doing press with Geno was frustrating because of it; he could see Geno getting frustrated himself, wanting to say more, and he could see reporters glazing over Geno’s answers the same way they hung onto his every word.

“How does that not bother you?” he asked Geno, later, ankles hooked together under the kitchen table as they are.

Geno shrugged. “Means I’m have to talk to them less.

“But they’re just-” Sid made a hand gesture in lieu of words he didn’t have.

“Everyone who matters, listens.” Geno said, smiling. “You listen, team listens, coaching staff listens. Why I’m care about reporters? I’m not need them to always listen. They’re only have to listen when I’m have big thing to say. Otherwise- play dumb, they not talk to me unless I’m want to.”

Sid huffed. “So, it’s fine, as long as it suits your con?”

Geno nodded, beaming like it was a point of pride. “Is what makes me so smart, yes? I’m work out way to only be listened to when I’m want.”

At, that, Sid couldn’t help but laugh. “Guess so,” he acquiesced. “Mind teaching me?”

Geno shrugged again, still grinning. “Sorry, Sid. Can’t reveal all my magic.”


	3. Heaven

He hated that he never regretted falling.

It was the right thing to do, really, to feel bad about breaking one of the few rules of the job. It was supposed to be a simple gig, being a guardian angel; you could interfere a little, keep your human safe, but at the end of the day, all you had to do was sit back, and not get involved.

He was bad about not getting involved. He was so, so bad.

It was a slippery slope; first, he’d just assume mortal form every so often. When Evgeni was sad, when he was hurting, when he was scared, in a new place, in need of a friend. It was even easier, from there to slip into Sidney Crosby, and to stay there, to put memories into people’s minds of a boy who was never really there. It was a  _favor_ , really; the Crosbys wanted a son, Taylor wanted a brother, and Evgeni wanted a friend.

The actual fall was even easier, from there. Evgeni was an easy man to love, because he loved to much already. He loved his friends, loved his family, loved hockey, and his country, and every animal he laid eyes on- and he loved  _Sid_  so much it was ways for him to forget that Sid wasn’t who he always was, who he already should have been.

In the moment, when Evgeni kissed him, and lead him back to a hotel room in St. Louis, it was easy to forget that he shouldn’t be there.

He felt so sick, the morning after, that he almost missed the bus back to Pittsburgh, pain racking through his body, and double rows of scars down his back where wings could have been. Should have been, never would be again.

Other than that morning, though, he never mourned for what he’d lost; secretly, he was almost glad for it. Now, he’d almost forgotten that he was ever something other than Sidney Crosby from Cole Harbour, and that he’d ever known a light more divine that the way the sun haloed Evgeni’s face when it came through their bedroom window in the early morning. It was wrong, he knew, to think of something higher than where he’d come from. But- if, some days, he thought that Evgeni’s side was closer to heaven than he’d ever been, then it was no ones business but his own.


	4. Hierarchy

Zhenya knew it was a little weird, but, it never stopped being hot, seeing Sid throw his weight around on the ice.

It wasn’t fair to say Sid was ever not in charge. He’d always commanded attention and attentiveness from everyone- from the coaching staff, from reporters, from random people on the street- but, on the ice, Sid was larger than life. He seemed, to Zhenya, like a Roman general, projecting an aura of command that was almost impossible the argue with.

It was a curse, though, because now that Sid fucking  _knew_  Zhenya found it hot, he abused that knowledge mercilessly- because, even though he was a formidable force, Sid was also an absolute ass.

“Geno,” he said, looming over him in bed, ‘I’m your captain’-voice low and booming. “It’s noon.”

“On Saturday,” Zhenha groaned, trying to close his eyes again, because if he had to  _look_  at Sid right now, he was absolutely going to lose this battle. “Nowhere to be. Leave me sleep.”

“ _Geno,_ ” Sid said again, so he opened his eyes, and almost immediately lost his will to disagree. Sid’s expression was as commanding as his voice, and when coupled with the fact that he still looked absolutely debauched from the night before. “Up. Come on.”

“Hate you,” Zhenya mumbled, but he rolled over, making Sid get off of him so he could stand.

Sid looked smug, the bastard. “You love me,” he said, leaning up to press a kiss to Zhenya’s cheek as he stood and stretched. “Be dressed in ten; we’re going out.”

“Hate you most,” Zhenya said, but it was weak, because he was too busy watching Sid bend over to pick up the clothes they’d thrown in the floor last night.

“Maybe,” Sid said, smiling over his shoulder, and catching Zhenya in the act. “But, I outrank you, so-” He tossed Zhenya a shirt, and it almost hit him in the face. “Get dressed, G.”


	5. Focus

Sid had a one track mind. It’d been a gift and a curse, in different parts of his life, but what it generally meant was that he was  _very_ good at getting what he wanted. He wanted to be the best in the game, he’d think about  _only_ the game; he wanted to learn something, he’d focus on just that one thing until he knew absolutely everything about it. 

What that meant for Zhenya, though, was that he either got all of Sid’s attention, burning and intense, like the summer sun, or almost none of it, leaving him cold, and feeling sick like he was missing something vital. He’d be the first to admit, too, that he got the latter a lot more than he got the former; hockey was always Sid’s first love, he knew, and as sad as saying it sounded, Zhenya had had many, many years of getting used to that. 

It used to make him upset, when they were younger and just starting out, fumbling through firsts and language barriers that made him feel like he had to scale Mount Everest to get his feelings out, but the times that he did have Sid’s attention-  _all_ of it, not just the absentminded pecks and bumps he got when hockey cut in- made it worth it, and soon, it was just normal. He’d somehow turned his feelings from a rose, keening for more  _sun,_ more  _water,_ more  _attention_ , more  _Sid_ , to a cactus, knowing how to last on the attention he was given. 

“You know,” Sid said, leaning his head on Zhenya’s shoulder on their flight back from Vancouver. “You kind of deserve a lot better, G.” 

It took Zhenya a second to realize it wasn’t a hockey thing Sid was talking about. “Why I’m deserve better?” he huffed. “You’re best.” 

“I think I’ve seen enough stuff to know I’m a bad boyfriend,” Sid said, and Zhenya shrugged best he could without jostling him. 

“You’re not movie boyfriend,” he said. “Not normal boyfriend, yes. But- you’re still best, to me. Love you.”

Sid sighed, and when Zhenya cut his eyes down to look at him, there was a look on Sid’s face that he hadn’t seen in a few weeks, at least: the look that showed Sid was switching gears, hockey dancing to the back for a second. “I’ll be better,” he said, and his voice was so quiet that Zhenya wasn’t sure if it was a promise to him, or a promise Sid was making to himself. 

Zhenya wanted to say ‘don’t make promises you can’t keep,’ but instead, he just smiled, and shook his head. “What I’m have is enough,” he said. “Can’t ask for more, Sid.” 

He could. He could ask for more, and Sid would do his best to give it to him, even if he didn’t, because Sid always wanted to give his  best. But, Zhenya knew well enough that it wouldn’t last long, and that pushing would only make them both feel worse in the end. He could wait til summer; they always made it to summer. 

In summer, he could afford to be a rose.


	6. Fountain

Sid had a lot of stupid superstitions. 

Not his pregame routines;  _those_ weren’t stupid, every player had those. They were practically a requirement for playing hockey. He had  _really_ stupid superstitions, ones that you were supposed to get over when you were younger, but he was never quite able to make himself get past. He didn’t like black cats, he didn’t walk under ladders, and he absolutely still believed in penny luck. 

It wasn’t like he went around picking up loose change willy nilly anyway, but, even if it was  _his_ coin that he’d dropped, Sid would much rather just… leave it, if it happened to land face down, than pick it up. But, that wasn’t the part of the penny thing that really got Sid chirped to death. 

“There’s a fountain outside,” Flower said, bumping shoulders with Sid as they sat down for breakfast the morning before their game in LA. 

Sid hummed, and tried not to grit his teeth. “Yep.” 

“You toss one in yet?” Flower asked, and the way he said it made it sound  _so_ much worse, and it drew a look from Geno, who was sitting down the table. 

“Sid’s toss  _what?_ ” he asked, eyes wide, and that was  _not_ the impression Sid wanted to make on the new guy  _at all_. 

“It’s a luck thing,” he said, shrugging and trying to seem nonchalant about the whole thing, even though he could feel his face turning red. “Y’know, throwing a penny in a fountain, and making a wish. That kind of thing.” 

Geno looked at him a little funny for a second, but eventually he just shrugged, and Sid had never before been so grateful for how weird everyone already thought he was. “Can wish for anything?” 

“Usually just for a good game,” Sid said. “But, uh… yeah, you can, I guess.” 

Geno nodded, and looked pensive for a few seconds before he turned back to his food and let the conversation die. Sid let out a sigh of relief, and kicked Flower in the knee before turning back to his own food, and making himself not look too far into it. 

He’d thought that would just be that, but when they finally left the hotel to go to the arena, Geno bumped up against him, and produced a penny from his pocket and pressed it into Sid’s palm, nodding towards the fountain. “For wish.” 

Sid tried not to look like he was going to pass out from a half second of touching. “Uh. Thanks.”

As they walked past, Sid flipped the coin into the fountain and close his eyes. When he opened them again, Geno was looking straight at him, and the intensity of his gaze made Sid’s stomach drop about ten feet. 

He wished for a win. They got one. 

After that, it became just another routine. If their hotel had a fountain out front- which, most did- Geno would press a coin into Sid’s hand as they were going out, and Sid would flip it in, and wish for a win; sometimes it would work, and sometimes it wouldn’t, but, it always made Geno smile and look at Sid with a look in his eye that Sid couldn’t quite read, but knew he liked a long time before he actually worked out that the knot of feeling in his stomach was a crush. 

It was years after that first penny when they’d lifted the Cup, and Sid was well beyond buzzed as he and Geno piled out of a cab, and back to their hotel. He was starting back towards the lobby, and almost fell flat on his ass when Geno yanked him back. “Fountain, Sid,” he said, accent thicker with drink, and he fumbled through his pockets for a second before he came back with a penny. “Make wish.” 

“I already wished,” Sid said. “We won, G.” 

“Can wish for anything,” Geno said, and he pushed the coin into Sid’s hand, the contact sending a jolt of electricity through Sid’s arm when coupled by the intensity in his gaze. “Wish again. Whatever you’re want.” 

Sid didn’t breath for a second, but he nodded and closed his eyes, tossing the penny into the fountain. 

He wished Geno would kiss him. 

When he opened his eyes again, his wish came true. 


	7. Steel

Zhenya had always been surrounded by things stronger than himself. When he was young, in Magnitogorsk, it was iron, and steel, and weathered, weary people who still found ways to laugh and push on and find joy when life didn’t want to give it to them. That was what he looked up to; the ability to push, and smile, and make the best for yourself when what was being given to you was anything but. 

Pittsburgh was iron and steel too, and even if at first, it seemed colder, Zhenya found the city and the people he met in it were just as strong as they had been in Magnita- especially Sidney Crosby. Zhenya had always been drawn to him, as a player, as a rival, as a teammate- as a  _person_ , but also as a force. He had never seen someone so strong of will, of mind, of character; even when hits rattled him, when people yelled, and pushed, and made jabs at him both physical and verbal that no person should have to shoulder, Sid never seemed to buckle. Sidney Crosby was a man of steel, even if he looked soft, and sweet, and like someone Zhenya wanted to hold in his arms and not let go of. 


	8. Element

Zhenya was melting, but he didn’t mind. 

He could feel water dripping down his fingers- the water that probably once made  _up_ his fingers, probably, but he didn’t mind. He’d freeze himself back together later, but for now, he couldn’t make himself draw himself away from Sid and his warmth, even as the flames coming off of him licked closer and closer. 

“You’re sure this is okay?” Sidney asked for what felt like the millionth time, and it hurt Zhenya’s eyes to look at his face for too long, but then, his eyes could just hurt some. 

“Best,” he said, and then, for the millionth time on his end: “Wish I could kiss you.” 

“I’d melt your face,” Sidney said, sighing. “We’ll… we’ll work it out, someday.” 

“Someday,” Zhenya said, and that made him feel warm for reasons that  had nothing to do with the fire. Someday, they would. 


	9. Protection

The barrier wasn’t going to hold long. 

The barrier was never  _meant_ to hold long, but, Zhenya hadn’t thought they were going to still be here when it was going to give. They were meant to be long gone, but, their exit strategy hadn’t worked out as planned. 

“I think we can hold them off for a few minutes,” Sid said, already steeled for a fight. “But, I’m not sure if we’re going to win this one, G.” 

Zhenya frowned. “Maybe can’t,” he said, only tacking on the ‘maybe’ because he hated giving into fate where it could hear him. “But- if you’re run, go out window, I’m can-”

“Stay here and die, not a fucking chance,” Sid said, and he cut Zhenya off before he could even reply. “Togther, Geno. We promised. We fight  _together_.” 

Even as his stomach was sinking, and the wood was cracking on the door, Zhenya felt his heart do a few flips. “Together,” he said, and nodded, getting reading for the oncoming wave. “Together.” 

They’d always make it through, together. 


	10. Homesick

Zhenya missed Russia. 

Zhenya missed Russia more than he could possibly say- and, that wasn’t just because everyone around him who wasn’t Seryozha spoke didn’t speak Russian, so he wouldn’t have had the words to in the first place. It was a varying ache; pounding every time he went to bed after a family dinner with Gonchars or a phone call with his mama, once it was safe to talk again, and dull but still there when he was sitting in the locker room, tongue tied and wordless for the most part. 

He missed so much about Russia: he missed the language, he missed his family, he missed the food, he missed his friends. He missed the  _women_. 

But, there was Sid. 

Sid- Sid certainly wasn’t either Russian, or a woman, but Zhenya found that he had more interest in him than he’d ever had in anyone who was both or either of those things. Sid didn’t remind him at  _all_ of him, and yet, he still was somehow able to make Zhenya feel like he was there, warm and safe every time they touched one another, and it was something that Zhenya didn’t know how to articulate, or handle, but it wasn’t something he was ever going to take for granted. 

/ 

Sid always missed home- but, he’d learned to take home in little doses. 

He hadn’t lived with his family for years, now, not since the little league he used to play in got too small and too rough, and he’d learned to perfect the art of making home where he laid his head not long after. 

Shattuck was home for a year: he had a dorm, and that was shelter, and he had Jack, and that was solace, and he had hockey, and that was what  _really_ mattered. 

Rimouski was his home: he had a billet family, and they were nice, and he had a team, and they were good to hang out with when he felt like he was going to go crazy from the eyes on him, and he had  _hockey,_ which was  _all_ that mattered. 

And Pittsburgh, Pittsburgh was almost more home than Cole Harbour ever was. He had Mario and his family, and they were  _really_ a family, and they had no trouble bringing Sid into the fold. And, if that wasn’t enough family, he had the rest of the team, and they were so, so  _warm_ and never minded giving Sid just the right amount of shit that he didn’t know what he’d do without them. And, he- of course- still had hockey, and that was the best thing ever. 

Or. Maybe second. 

Because he also had  _Geno,_ and when they were both lying, quiet, in the same hotel bed, Geno snoring like a lawn mower and Sid still awake only half because of it, Sid thought that  _maybe,_  maybe, if he had Geno, the rest of it might not matter. It didn’t really matter what town they were in, or what country, or what  _planet_ ; Geno felt as much like a home to Sid as any place he’d lived, and he certainly missed him more when he was gone than he did Cole Harbour, even if he’d feel bad admitting it. 


	11. Highway

The lights of the other cars passed by his little hideaway, and Sid watched them, eyelids drooping, chest rising and falling slowly. He’d pulled over to take a rest, knowing that he had a damn long haul in front of him, and he’d just about nodded off when he heard his radio crackle to life. 

“Is Russian Bear- you awake, Sid?” 

He hadn’t been before, but just hearing the other man’s voice, Sid was suddenly  _wide_ awake, and scrambling for his CB. “Ten-four, Russian Bear- How’s the haul today, G?” 

He and- it felt  _silly,_ calling him “Russian Bear”; CB handles had gone way out of fashion somewhere in the nineties or early aughts, and Sid felt like a tool still using them. But, Geno thought they were  _hilarious_ , and Sid thought Geno was hilarious, so he was willing to put up with it. They’d been talking for a few months now, passing like ships in the night here and there, and Sid would’ve been lying if he hadn’t built up maybe a little-huge crush on the man. 

“Heading back to stack of bricks,  _finally_ ,” Geno sighed, and Sid felt a pang. He hadn’t been home in- god, he couldn’t remember how long. Not that home was home, even. It was a lonely little apartment in Pittsburgh that he shared with a guy who’s name he barely knew, but was definitely sure was renting out his bedroom on AirBnB while Sid was on hauls. “You?” 

“My 20′s out in Chicago,” Sid sighed. “Pulled off to rest my eyes for a few minutes.” 

“I’m not want to keep you, if you’re sleep,” Geno hummed, and Sid had to bite his tongue to keep from reacting too quickly. 

“You’re not keeping me,” he said. “Might be a little late on the uptake, but- I like talking to you.” 

“You’re need sleep, Sid,” Geno huffed. “You know I’m be here in the morning.” 

“Who knows,” Sid said. “Could not.” 

“Will be,” Geno insisted. “You’re go to sleep.” 

Sid hummed, and took a deep breath. “If you could… just keep talking to me, actually? Until I fall asleep. I just… I like hearing you.” 

There was silence on the other end of the channel for a few moments, and Sid thought that maybe he’d stepped too far, but as soon as the thought crossed his mind, Geno was back. “Of course, Sid,” he said, his voice gentler now. “What you’re want me talk about?” 

“Just- anything.” Sid leaned back again, closing his eyes, and holding his radio close to his chest. “Your day, what you ate for lunch, whatever.” 

“Boring,” Geno hummed, but he started talking anyway, and Sid just closed his eyes and let the words wash over him. 


	12. Highway

The lights of the other cars passed by his little hideaway, and Sid watched them, eyelids drooping, chest rising and falling slowly. He’d pulled over to take a rest, knowing that he had a damn long haul in front of him, and he’d just about nodded off when he heard his radio crackle to life. 

“Is Russian Bear- you awake, Sid?” 

He hadn’t been before, but just hearing the other man’s voice, Sid was suddenly  _wide_ awake, and scrambling for his CB. “Ten-four, Russian Bear- How’s the haul today, G?” 

He and- it felt  _silly,_ calling him “Russian Bear”; CB handles had gone way out of fashion somewhere in the nineties or early aughts, and Sid felt like a tool still using them. But, Geno thought they were  _hilarious_ , and Sid thought Geno was hilarious, so he was willing to put up with it. They’d been talking for a few months now, passing like ships in the night here and there, and Sid would’ve been lying if he hadn’t built up maybe a little-huge crush on the man. 

“Heading back to stack of bricks,  _finally_ ,” Geno sighed, and Sid felt a pang. He hadn’t been home in- god, he couldn’t remember how long. Not that home was home, even. It was a lonely little apartment in Pittsburgh that he shared with a guy who’s name he barely knew, but was definitely sure was renting out his bedroom on AirBnB while Sid was on hauls. “You?” 

“My 20′s out in Chicago,” Sid sighed. “Pulled off to rest my eyes for a few minutes.” 

“I’m not want to keep you, if you’re sleep,” Geno hummed, and Sid had to bite his tongue to keep from reacting too quickly. 

“You’re not keeping me,” he said. “Might be a little late on the uptake, but- I like talking to you.” 

“You’re need sleep, Sid,” Geno huffed. “You know I’m be here in the morning.” 

“Who knows,” Sid said. “Could not.” 

“Will be,” Geno insisted. “You’re go to sleep.” 

Sid hummed, and took a deep breath. “If you could… just keep talking to me, actually? Until I fall asleep. I just… I like hearing you.” 

There was silence on the other end of the channel for a few moments, and Sid thought that maybe he’d stepped too far, but as soon as the thought crossed his mind, Geno was back. “Of course, Sid,” he said, his voice gentler now. “What you’re want me talk about?” 

“Just- anything.” Sid leaned back again, closing his eyes, and holding his radio close to his chest. “Your day, what you ate for lunch, whatever.” 

“Boring,” Geno hummed, but he started talking anyway, and Sid just closed his eyes and let the words wash over him. 


	13. Record

Sid was an old fashioned guy, so it stood the reason that, out of everyone, he’d be the one with a fucking vinyl collection. 

“I  _use_ them,” he said when Zhenya started poking through the stacks and making fun of him. “It’s not like they just- sit there and collect dust.” 

“You’re have fucking Sinatra records,” Zhenya said, holding one up and brandishing it at Sid. “Like- fucking  _grandpa hipster_. You listen to Sinatra, Sid?” 

“ _Sometimes_ ,” Sid said, swiping the record from him and frowning. “Do  _you_?” 

Zhenya actually paused. “No?” 

“Well.” Sid bullied him with his hips until Zhenya was forced away from his collection, and slid the offending Sinatra record from it’s jacket, laying it gingerly onto his turntable. “You should. It’s romantic.” 

“Romantic,” Zhenya huffed, but he wasn’t complaining when the music started up and Sid took his hand. Neither of them were the best dancers, and it was more like middle school dance swaying than anything, but, Zhenya had to admit Sid was right- it  _was_ romantic. 

“See?” Sid said, a little smug, like he’d just read Zhenya’s mind. 

Zhenya just rolled his eyes. “You’re still fucking  _hipster_.” 


	14. Ghostly

Sid was standing in front of him. 

Sid shouldn’t have been standing in front of him. 

Zhenya reached out, almost desperate, and his hand went right through Sid’s body, and then he noticed- he wasn’t standing in front of him, so much as hovering. 

“Oh,” Sid said, and he wasn’t looking down at his own mostly-translucent body, like he maybe should be, but up at Zhenya. “You can see me now.” 

“Sid,” Zhenya croaked. “Sid, you here.” 

Sid shuffled his feet- or, made the motion. There was no sound, because he was a fucking ghost, so why would there be. “I’ve… been here? For awhile. Just sorta- looking out for you.” 

“Miss you,” Zhenya said, reaching out again, his hand just hovering over Sid’s cheek now instead of touching. “Miss you so much.” 

“I know,” Sid said, and his gaze dropped now. “I know you do, but you- I don’t want you to just keep. Waiting for me, because I’m not- this is all I can be anymore, Zhenya, and this isn’t good for either of us. You don’t want this.” 

“Want you,” Zhenya said. “Even if I’m never touch you again, Sid, I’m want you. Love you.” 

“I love you, too,” Sid said, smiling a little now. “And I- I’ll be here, for as long as I can.” 

“All I ever need,” Zhenya said. “Just you.”


	15. Hymn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slight nsfw!

Sid was- well. “Raised religious” was a strong way of putting it; they’d gone to church for as long as it didn’t interfere with hockey, which wasn’t long, but he’d gotten a little of the religious experience. 

He’d been to a fair number of Masses, though; Christmas and Easter, since there was usually never games on those days when he still lived at home. And, even if they didn’t really stick with him, he still remembered the experiences; the prayers, and the chants, and the hymns. 

And- well. Maybe he shouldn’t, because Sid didn’t  _like_ thinking about what happened after he died, or if there was a Heaven of a Hell- because, if there was one or the other? He was more  _certainly_ not getting into the Heaven- or, if he was, he hoped to whoever was in charge that there wasn’t going to be too many hymns being sung there. 

Because he  _really_ didn’t think he could handle looking an angel in the eye and telling them that the sweetest hymn  _he’d_ ever heard was the sounds Geno made when they were fucking, but, he also didn’t think he could lie to an angel. 


	16. Snow

There was snow on Sid’s eyelashes.

There was snow everywhere, to be fair- but, what Zhenya was stuck on now as the snow on the edge of Sid’s stupid, long, pretty doe eyelashes, driving him crazy.

“You good, G?”

Sid doesn’t know there’s snow on his eyelashes, like some kind of winter wonderland mascara model, and all he does is blink at Zhenya owlishly. All Zhenya does in reply is make a noncommittal noise, and keep staring.

Sid frowns. “Seriously. Is there something on my face?”

Snow. On his eyelashes. “Nothing,” he says. “Just- look nice, today. Do something with your hair?”

Sid huffs in a way that says ‘fuck you’ and ‘you’re lucky you’re cute’ in one breath, frown turning to an easy grin. “You know I didn’t,” he said. “But, thanks.”

Zhenya smiles back and reaches for Sid hand, exhaling just to watch his breath crystallize and look at something other than Sid’s face for a moment- not because he didn’t want to always be looking at Sid’s face, but because he didn’t want to creep him out. Sid huffs again, much more endeared, and despite the cold, Zhenya feels his heart light up.

 


	17. Couple Superstitions

They don’t say “I love you.” 

Not because they don’t love each other; Sid loves Geno more than he’d ever loved another person in his life, and he knows Geno feels the same, even without using exactly those three words. 

They don’t say “I love you”, not because they’re not in love, but because they’re both afraid of what happens after the words come out. 

“You’re best thing to ever happen to me,” Geno’d said, the one time they talked about it. “Best thing in world, person I’m want to spend rest of my life with. And- when I’m say, to other people, people I’m date before… always falls apart, after. Not want to fall apart, with you.” 

And, Sid had understood. Not that he’d dated too many people, or really had the  _chance_ to say “I love you” to too many of them, but- he understood. “I love you” carried a weight that none of his disambiguations did, a finality that either one of them were used to. 

So, they didn’t say “I love you”- not in those words, anyway. They found a thousand other ways to say it, or act it, or push the feeling through the air when nothing else was working, so they’d always know. 


	18. Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> requested by eafay70 on tumblr

Neither of them could carry a tune. 

Geno would  _try_ , and Sid didn’t even bother anymore; if you got him drunk off his ass, and  _really_ pushed, he’d maybe try karaoke, but that was that. 

That, of course, didn’t stop Geno from trying to get him to sing around the house. 

“I’m gonna scare the neighbors,” he huffed, trying to ignore Geno’s doe eyes. “They’ll think you’re murdering me, and call the cops, and it’ll be this whole thing.” 

“Will not,” Geno pushed, pouting a bit, and  _god_ , Sid was exercising all of his will power here, really. “Sound so pretty, Sid.” 

“I think you need to get your ears checked,” Sid snorted, and he tried to turn away, and back to actually making lunch, like they’d intended to do- but, Geno just drew him back in by his waist and hooked his chin over Sid’s shoulder. 

“My ears fine,” he hummed. “Love your singing. Know  you’re like doing it, so, why not do?”

“Because I’m  _bad_ , G,” Sid said, though he didn’t try to wriggle away. “There’s literal  _articles_ you can read if you don’t believe me and you want a second opinion. I’m a shitty singer.” 

“So? Who’s care?” Geno said. “You’re can’t be best at everything, wouldn’t be fair. You’re not best singer, because best at everything else, but just because you’re not best not mean you shouldn’t  _do_.” 

Sid was silent for a few seconds, and then sighed. “Okay- yeah. Maybe.” 

“I’m do, too,” Geno said, pressing a kiss to the side of Sid’s neck. “We’re sing together, be nice.” 

“Fine,” Sid said, and the moment he relented, he felt Geno’s face light up. 

“ _Best_ ,” he crooned, pulling away. “I’m go put on song, wait one second.” 

Sid didn’t think he’d ever been more tensed in his life- until the second the music started up, and then he couldn’t help but laugh. “You  _ass_.” 

“You’re not like?” Geno asked, feigning innocence. “Is good song, Sid.” 

“ _Fuck_  you,” Sid said, but, that didn’t keep him from [singing along a few seconds later. ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dQw4w9WgXcQ)


	19. Swimming at the Beach

At this point, Sid would’ve been almost happy to drift out to sea, if it meant that he didn’t have to keep watching Geno get in and out of the water. He was pretty much always a sight to behold, but the dampness and the dangerous size of his trunks made this whole ordeal-  _overwhelming_ , to say the least.

“Been in the water long time,” Geno said, swimming a few circles around Sid. They weren’t far enough out that the waves weren’t too crazy, but, it was deep enough that the lower part of Sid’s body was entirely covered, and-  _blessedly_ \- so was most of Geno’s. “Going to prune, Sid.” 

“I’m good,” Sid said, clearing his throat. Geno hummed, and ducked under the water for a moment, making Sid freeze. Geno’s ass was- dangerously close to him, for a second, and if ever there was a benevolent sea god of some kind that wanted swept people away, Sid wished  _desperately_ that they would choose him and right this very moment to act. 

No mermaids or whirlpools appeared before Geno resurfaced, and saw the growing flush on Sid’s face. “Think you’re have sunburn,” he said. 

Sid wanted to die. “Yeah, uh. Maybe.” 

“Get out of water,” Geno said, grabbing his arm and tugging. “I’m have sunscreen, put on.” 

“I’d really rather-” It was a bit too late for Sid to protest, words coming out seconds before Geno was pushed flush against him by a wave, and an absolutely indecent noise made it’s way past Sid’s lips, unbidden. 

Neither of them moved. “Was- you?” Geno asked. 

“I, uh.” There was no escape save for the sweet release of the open ocean, and Sid really,  _really_ didn’t feel like swimming to a remote island right now and living out the rest of his days in exile. “Yeah.” 

“If we’re go back to hotel,” Geno said, speaking slowly, as if he were picking out every word individually in his head. “You think… I can make you make it again?” 

Sid blinked. “I, uh… yeah.” 

Geno grinned. “Race you,” he said, pressing a quick, barely there kiss to Sid’s mouth before turning and pushing his way back towards the shore. 

He’s almost all the way up the beach before Sid can get his legs to work again, and he chases after him.


	20. "So, that happened."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by @camshaft22 on tumblr!

They’re both breathing heavy when Sid spoke up. 

“So,” he drawled, the one syllable becoming at least five. “That… happened.” 

Zhenya snorted, and tried not to roll his eyes. “I’m know, Sid, I was here. Happened.” 

“I  _know_  you were here, G,” Sid  _definitely_ rolled his eyes, flopping a hand out to bat at Zhenya’s shoulder. “I’m just… I’m just  _saying._ We did- that.” 

“That,” Zhenya echoed. “That, what? Each other?” 

That got a giggle out of Sid, hitting Zhenya again. “Fuck you,” he said. “Yeah, each other.” 

“Was nice,” Zhenya said, reaching out and grabbing Sid’s hand before he can fully retract it. He squeezed it, and Sid squeezed back, so he took a little bit of a risk. “Should… do again, sometime.” 

“What, each other?” He could hear Sid’s smirk without even looking over at him, and he just  _had_ to roll his eyes this time. 

“Each other,” he echoed. “Yes.” 

“You’re gonna have to buy me dinner next time,” Sid said. “Put a little effort in.” 

“I’m put most effort in,” Zhenya promised, shifting to look at him. Sid was staring up at the ceiling, chest still heaving a little, and his eyes were almost glittering in the low light when he turned to look at Zhenya. 

“Then, yeah,” Sid said. “We’ll do it again.” 


	21. Glitter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by @tylerparsons on tumblr!

Sid’s glowing, and glittering, and only half of it is to do with the literal golden glitter in his hair. 

He hadn’t stopped smiling all night; he’d say he hadn’t stopped smiling all  _day_ , but, there had been a little bit of the morning where he’d been so nervous that he’d almost worn a hole in the carpet of his hotel room pacing, and then a bit a little later where he was so slack-jawed watching Geno walk down the improvised aisle of the little dock behind Sid’s house in Cole Harbour that he forgot to breathe, much less smile- but, after that, since the moment Geno took his hand and the ceremony proper started, Sid had been smiling so much that he’d be surprised if his mouth could do anything that  _wasn’t_ smile for the rest of his life. 

Not that it’d ever  _need_ to do anything that wasn’t smile, after today. 

He’s a little bit drunk, and he’s been staring at the ring on his finger and giggling for the past ten minutes- or, maybe longer; he couldn’t tell anymore. “G,” he says, bumping his husband-  _his husband!_ \- with his shoulder to get his attention. “Hey.” 

“Hm?” Geno leans over, and Sid can tell he’s a little drunk, too. There’s a flush high on his cheekbones, and he immediately drops his head to Sid’s shoulder when he leans a little too far. 

“Love you,” Sid says, for the umpteenth time since the day started. He never felt like he’d said it enough, now that he could say it. 

Geno’s smile lights up the night more than any of, by Sid’s count,  _million_  fairy lights that were up right now, or the full moon, or probably even the sun itself. “Love you too, Sid.” 

“How early is too early to ditch your own reception?” Sid asked, laying his head atop Geno’s and closing his eyes, just for a second. There was a lot to take in; he’d still barely processed the first part of the day, where he’d been for real,  _for real_ , getting married. 

“Think we can sneak off whenever we want,” Geno hummed. “Not like we’re have to clean up; our wedding. And, is wedding night, now.” 

Sid didn’t have to look down to know that that last part was accompanied by a lot of eyebrow wiggling, and he couldn’t hold back a burst of giggles. “Yeah? Figure we should probably get back to our room, then; we’re already cutting into our time.” 

Geno didn’t have to be told twice; he was quick on his feet, for someone who’d drank  _a lot_ of champagne not too long ago, and he helped Sid to his feet, and let him lean heavily into his side. “Hey, G?” 

“Hm?” He knew Geno was expecting it this time, but Sid still leaned up, and pressed a kiss to his cheek as he said it. 

“Love you.” 

Geno laughed, and as soon as they got close to the threshold, he swept Sid up in his arms, and carried him, laughing all the way up to their bedroom, leaving a trail of gold behind them.


	22. "I never thought I'd see you again"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by @samati on tumblr!

Zhenya fell in love in Grand Forks, North Dakota, on New Years Day. 

He’d been fall _ing_  in love for a few days before that; he didn’t know too much English, but he didn’t have to, either. All he and Sid- a smiley,  _gorgeous_ , beautiful Canadian that had had Zhenya  _entranced_ from the first time he’d seen him- needed were the few words they had between them, and some smiles. 

They were almost-but-not-quite holding hands, sitting outside their hotel and watching fireworks pop off from somewhere in the distance, Sid leaning heavily into Zhenya’s side, stealing and sharing warmth in turns. Neither of them were wearing enough layers to be outside with the temperature as low as it was, even with as accustomed as they probably both were to colder climates. “ _I think I’m in love with you_ ,” Zhenya mumbled, in low, sleepy Russian. He didn’t look at Sid as he said it; something heavy and sick curling up in his stomach told him that, if he did, he’d probably start to cry. 

Sid hummed. “What’d you say?” 

“I say I’m miss you,” Zhenya said, picking his words out carefully in English. “When I’m go home.” 

Sid frowned, and just tucked himself a little closer to Zhenya. “I’ll miss you, too,” he said. “It’s- I’ll miss you, too.” 

The words hung heavy in the air, and instead of floundering for words, Zhenya just reached out, and squeezed Sid’s hand. “ _I love you_.” he said, and it was just as much for the wind as it was for Sid. Maybe, if the world heard him say it, it wouldn’t be so eager to rip them apart. 

“Mm.” Sid said, and he squeezed Zhenya’s hand back, and they both fell silent. 

* * *

Russia lost, and the last thing Zhenya saw of Sid was the back of his head as they parted ways, and went down the tunnel. 

It was- a bitter ending to things, and the jealous, gnashing part of Zhenya was saying  _good riddance_ as the rest of him was aching to turn around and run, and see how far that got him. The silver medal around his neck weighed him down, though, and Sasha’s arm around his neck kept him trudging back to the locker room as he let Sid out of sight without another word, or anything more than a handshake on the ice

* * *

The next time Zhenya saw Sid, he had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. He wouldn’t have been surprised if he was; he’d had this dream too many times before, but never with this particular twist. Somehow, Zhenya’s mind had never thought to conjure up the image of Sid standing at the top of Mario Lemieux’s stairs, staring down at him with wide, almost scared eyes, mouth working wordlessly. 

“Sid,” he managed to to get out, and he could see Seryozha’s eyebrows hit his hairline from the corner of his eye, but he didn’t care. “Is- nice, see you.”

“You two know each other?” Mario asked. 

Sid made a distressed noise before he cleared his throat, and answered. “We… met, during World Juniors a couple of years ago. Hi, Zhenya.” 

“ _Zhenya_ ,” Seryozha said, incredulous. He looked to Sid, and then to Zhenya, who just shrugged, unable to tear his eyes away from Sid. 

All Zhenya wanted to do was drag Sid away somewhere and hold him, but instead, he had to sit through a dinner where he can’t keep his eyes off of him, and Sid only looks to him  _twice_ , frowning both times and looking something like a cornered animal. It made Zhenya’s skin itch, and he felt even more like he was- invading something, like maybe coming to Pittsburgh wasn’t going to be every dream he’d ever had. 

Sid didn’t even say goodbye to him as he walked out the door, and Zhenya couldn’t help but be crushed. 

* * *

It was weeks before Zhenya was alone with Sid and honestly, at that point, he wasn’t sure if he ever expected to be. They were- something closer to friends, now, or at least  _friendly_. Sid talked to him, during practice, or after games when they were out with the guys, but never alone, never anywhere  _private_ , and Zhenya wasn’t dumb enough that he didn’t know what that meant. Whatever they’d had in North Dakota, that didn’t carry to Pittsburgh- or, at the very least, Sid didn’t want it to.  

Not that that kept Zhenya from loving him all the same. 

He was surprised, and nervous when Sid invited him over, the combination promise and threat of the inevitable conversation looming as he accepted, and let Seryozha drop him off after practice. He could hear his heart pounding in his chest as he rang the bell, and waited for Sid to let him in, and he could barely focus through the precursory rounds of whatever video game that was Sid’s cover for inviting him over. 

“I missed you,” Zhenya finally said, in between one round and another, when it looked like Sid wanted to break the silence, but wasn’t sure how. 

“I-” Sid’s voice trembled for a moment, and he sucked in a breath. “I missed you, too.” 

The words rushed out in one breath, stealing Zhenya’s from his chest. “Sid,” he said, and then fell silent, because his English wasn’t  _that_ much better than it had been in North Dakota, and he wanted to be careful with his words, make sure that they were the ones he wanted. 

“I just, I didn’t know how to say anything, after the game.” It seemed like Zhenya wasn’t going to get the chance to speak, though, because Sid barrelled on, like now that he’d started talking about it, he couldn’t stop. “I wanted to- give you my number, or my email, or  _something_ , but you just- you looked so  _sad_ , and Ovechkin was hurt, and you two were- and there were cameras, and by the time there weren’t it was too  _late_ , and-” 

“ _Sid,”_ Zhenya tried again, but Sid wasn’t stopping. 

“- Then, I didn’t know how to get back into contact with you, and when I saw that we were both drafted to Pittsburgh, I was so  _happy_ , because we could- I don’t know _, something_ , but then you weren’t there last year, and Mario didn’t know when you were coming, and then you weren’t here  _this_ year, and I didn’t know if you were  _ever_  coming, and-” Sid’s voice  _broke_  here, and broke Zhenya’s heart with it. “I never thought I’d see you again.” 

“I’m sorry,” Zhenya said, because he didn’t know what else to say. He dropped the controller to his lap, and reached out to cup Sid’s cheek. “I’m  _sorry_ , Sid, I’m  _sorry_.” 

“And then you were just  _there_.” Sid put his hand over Zhenya’s. “Just- standing there, when you came over for dinner, and I… I didn’t know what to  _do_. I know I was a dick, and I’m sorry, and-” 

Zhenya cut him off there with a kiss, because he wasn’t sure if Sid would ever stop to breathe if he didn’t, and he sounded like he was starting to hyperventilate. 

When they pulled back, Zhenya can’t help himself. “I love you,” he said, and he heard Sid’s breath hitch, so he said it again. “I love you. Love you for long time, can’t stop thinking about how, when I’m get here, I’m get have dream come true, play in NHL  _and_ see you, every day.” 

“You love me,” Sid echoed, sounding dazed and disbelieving, which is okay. Zhenya could say it as many times as it took Sid to believe it. 

“I love you,” he said, and Sid smiled, and pulled him in for another kiss. 


	23. "I bet you won't."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW!

Geno slams him up against the wall the same second their mouths crash together, and steals the breath straight from Sid’s lungs- which, really, wasn’t fair.

“Not fucking done talking, G,” he bites out, fingers digging into Geno’s side as he sucks bruising kisses down the side of Sid’s neck. Only half of Sid’s brain is still online and annoyed- annoyed that he’s going to have to find a way to cover those up tomorrow, annoyed that Geno took another fucking penalty tonight and cost them OT, annoyed at himself for fucking up the shot- but, that half? Is very annoyed.

“I’m done listening,” Geno says in between kisses, picking him up. Sid’s legs wrap instinctively around his waist, even if he should be telling him to put him the fuck down, because he’s not going to be the rest Geno busts his knee again. “Talk too much, Sid, talk all night. Be quiet, or I’m give you something else to do with your mouth.”

They were in the middle of the fucking arena- or, in the middle of the hallway in the back of the arena, but still; they weren’t somewhere private, so what Sid should  _really_  be doing was telling Geno to shut the fuck up and taking him home so that they didn’t have the risk of literally anyone walking in on them.

What happens instead, though, is that the working half of his brain roars, and he steels his jaw in challenge, meeting Geno’s gaze evenly. “I bet you won’t,” he says, and Geno snarls.

“Not playing a game, Sid,” Geno says, and Sid knows that there’s something behind it asking ‘are you sure you want this?’- because, even if Geno says it isn’t a game, it is, and they’ve played it before.

“Then don’t make promises  you can’t keep,” Sid huffs, his way of saying ‘I’m sure,’ and Geno steps back, letting him slide back down to his feet before grabbing a fistful of Sid’s hair and pushing down.

“I’m never make promise I’m not keep,” he said, voice even and authoritative, and yes, this isn’t how Sid thought the night would be going, but it’s where he wants it to. “Down, Sid, don’t make me say again.”

Sid drops to his knees on the tile floor of a dark back hallway somewhere in the guts of PPG Paints Arena, where anyone- a staff member, one of the guys, a fucking  _reporter_ \- could walk by any second, and he can’t say he  _doesn’t_ fucking care about that threat, but, he really only cares a little bit right now. He’s more focused on Geno’s hand tugging at his hair, and the heat in his gaze, and the promise of something fucking  _good_  after tonight’s shitshow of a game. 

Geno only lets go of his hair for a moment to tug his pants down- not entirely, thank fucking  _god_ , because even if Sid’s only a little worried about it, he’d still rather  _die_ than have the front page of Deadspin tomorrow be Geno’s bare ass and Sid’s mouth on his dick- which,  _fuck_ , does he want to get his mouth on Geno’s dick. 

Geno seems to want him to, too, giving Sid’s hair another tug. “Open.” 

Sid’s jaw drops automatically, and he’s immediately rewarded by Geno pushing the head of his dick into the circle of Sid’s lips- not how Sid wanted, though. He’s gentle, still; Geno’s  _always_ gentle, when it comes to Sid, even when he’s trying to be rough. Not like there isn’t precedence for it, or that Sid doesn’t  _like_ it gentle, a lot of the time; he spends most of his life with people roughing him up, so, it’s nice to have Geno, someone who treats him like he’s something precious. 

Tonight, though, Sid doesn’t  _want_  to feel precious. He wants to feel  _used_. He pulls back and frowns up at Geno, eyebrow cocked in question. “Thought you were going to try and shut me up?” 

“Was  _working on it_ ,” Geno says, eyes narrowed. 

“Then  _work_ ,” Sid said. “Fuck my mouth, G, or you might as well just let me talk about the power play.” 

Geno  _growls_  at that, and Sid barely has time to recover and open his mouth again before Geno’s pushing in, and then back out at a somewhat brutal pace. Sid’s gagging a little, eyes watering, and it’s hard to breathe in between strokes, even when he knows Geno’s  _definitely_ intentionally timing it so he has time to, and it’s  _exactly_ what he needed, exactly what he wants. 

“So fucking  _good_ , Sid.” Geno’s voice brings him back, eyes open as he looks up at him. “Always so fucking good; play so fucking good tonight, always.” 

Sid wants to say that he  _didn’t_ play so fucking good tonight, that he doesn’t  _deserve_ Geno’s praise or any of the other praise he was getting, but he can’t; he listens, and lets Geno use his mouth, because he doesn’t trust what’d come out otherwise. 

“Always trust me.” The hand in his hair has gone from pulling to petting, gentle even as Geno keeps up his brutal pace, and Sid’s torn between the feeling of being used and being loved. “Always trust me to take care of you, Sid- trust me here, trust me on the ice. Perfect.” 

And- Sid does. He does trust Geno, more than anyone else in the world, probably, and he can’t help but get a couple of butterflies just thinking about it, even if now was  _absolutely_ the literal worst time for it. 

“ _Fuck_.” Geno’s hand stills, and his rhythm stutters, and Sid knows he’s close without him having to say. He hums around him, gaze flicking up; Geno looks entirely undone above him, face obviously flushed in the low light, eyes blown wide. Sid fucking  _loves_ it. 

He hums again, and taps Geno’s thigh, pushing ‘what’re you waiting for?’ and Geno huffs before he picks up the pace again. It isn’t long before he’s coming, and Sid gags for a second before he manages to swallow, and Geno pulls back, just- watching. 

“You okay?” he asks, offering Sid a hand up after he tucks himself back in. He’s back to being gentle now, and Sid just smiles. 

“Yeah, I’m good.” His jaw aches a little already, and his knees would probably start complaining later, but for now, he’s on cloud nine. “You?” 

“Fucking  _best_ ,” Geno snorts, and he pulls Sid into a kiss. “Let me take you home.” 

As if Sid was going to let him do anything else. “Think you can go again, when we get there?” 

Geno laughs, and it echoes down the empty hallway. “You want?” 

“We don’t have practice, tomorrow,” Sid said. “And, I want you to fuck me.” 

That seems to knock the breath out of Geno, and Sid takes it in stride, pulling ahead of him. “You coming, or what?” 

“Fucking  _best_ ,” Geno croons, and from there, it’s a race to the parking lot, Sid feeling giddy and light most of the way. 


	24. Hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by @cakemakethme on tumblr!

Zhenya feels like he’s slowly being burned alive from the inside out, and the only thing keeping him from exploding is Sid’s hand, cool and gentle, smoothing down his back and through his hair. 

“You’re gonna be fine, G,” Sid says, voice quiet and a little bit dreamlike to Zhenya’s fevered ears. 

“ _Tired_ ,” he croaks, leaning up into Sid’s touch. Sid laughs, and his smile is like a breath of fresh air that Zhenya can’t soak up enough of. 

“No one’s stopping you from sleeping,” Sid said. “I’d encourage it, honestly.” 

“If I’m sleep,” Zhenya said. “You won’t be here.” 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Sid promised. His hand was rubbing sweeping circles across Zhenya’s back now, and it was like there was a force of nature pulling him to Sid’s side, face tucked into the curve of his hip. 

“Promise?” Zhenya’s already slipping under, Sid’s sweeping touch pulling him down like a current at high tide. 

Sid laughs again, small and soft. “Promise,” he says, dropping a kiss to Zhenya’s hot forehead. “Go to sleep.” 

Zhenya lets his eyes fall shut, and Sid’s hands don’t stop moving, lulling him and quieting the heat, just for a few moments.


	25. Smoke

There’s ash at Sid’s feet, and he can’t help but be afraid. 

The man in front of him- except he isn’t a man, he isn’t a man at all- has smoke billowing off him like a cheap Vegas show, except for the part where Sid knows,  _god,_ it’s real. 

“You’re call?” Sid wants to laugh, because when the- the  _being_  speaks, it’s with a heavy Russian drawl, like something from a bad Hollywood movie. Except this is  _real_. 

“I- didn’t really mean to,” he says. “But, I guess so.” 

The being’s eyes are pure black with an ember deep set, glowing and mesmerizing Sid. He fights not to look at it. “Still call,” he says, taking a step forward. Sid takes a step back to counter, and the being laughs. “So, you’re want something. What you want?” 

“Well, now I’m embarrassed to say.” Sid’s took tipsy for this- this  _demon_  standing in front of him in the body of a man, looking like sin incarnate. Movies had prepared him for a blonde bombshell, or maybe some guy that looked like Channing Tatum; no one expects their lust demon to be a lanky Russian dude. 

“Trust me,” the demon purrs, and Sid  _definitely_ doesn’t trust him. “Whatever you’re say, I’m hear weirder.” He strides closer, and Sid’s already backed into a wall, so there isn’t anywhere else for him to go. 

“I just wanted a friend,” Sid blurts. The demon doesn’t seem to know what to do with that; he stumbles back at step, and blinks. For a second, his eyes aren’t black; they’re brown and warm, and something in Sid’s stomach goes liquid. 

“A… friend.” The demon speaks slowly, and there’s a half second pause before he laughs. That’s warm, too, and there’s no malice in it. “Okay, change my mind. I’m never hear that one before.” 

Sid flushes, and shrugs. “Told you.” 

“You’re give soul, for… friend?” the demon says, head cocked to one side. 

“I didn’t really mean to bring you here,” Sid says, apologetic. “But, I mean- sorta? I guess?” 

“ _Weird_ ,” the demon says, and he sounds  _delighted_. “But, not what I’m do. Lust demon, here for-” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively, and god, Sid wants to say this guy’s a shitty lust demon, because who the hell would be attracted to  _that_ , but it’s kind of working for him, so he can’t say shit. “Nothing else you’re want?” 

“Not really,” Sid said, and the demon just looks at him for a few seconds before nodding. 

“I’m be your friend,” he says. “Can’t ask you for your soul, because that’s not how deal works, but, I’m be your friend.” 

“Oh.” This isn’t how Sid saw this going, but, he’s kind of excited about it anyway. “Alright. Can I… ask what your name is?” 

The demon opens his mouth, and a noise comes out that Sid’s mind can’t process. He almost throws up. 

For what it’s worth, the demon looks sheepish about it. “Can… call me Geno.” 

“Geno,” Sid says. “That works. I’m Sid.” He offers his hand, and the demon- Geno, looks skeptical for a few seconds before he shakes it. 

“Hi, Sid,” he says. 

“Do you eat?” Sid asks. 

Geno frowns. “I’m… can eat.” 

“Good,” Sid turns away from the summoning circle, and starts back towards his house. “You like pizza?” 

“Probably.” Geno falls in step beside him. 

“I’ll order one, then,” Sid says. “We can- watch a movie, or something.” 

“You’re so  _weird_ ,” Geno says again, but he stays, so Sid takes it as a win.


	26. Necklace

“You’ll be back in the fall?” he asks for the millionth time, and Evgeni hums, ducking down to press another kiss to the back of Sidney’s hand. Sidney can barely feel the brush of his lips through his gloves, and he wishes he could take them off, or kiss Evgeni properly, but there’s too many people around, and he doesn’t want to cause a scene. 

“No one in the world could stop me from come back to you, Mr. Crosby,” Evgeni says, and Sidney’s stomach ties itself in several more tight knots. “As soon as there’s snow in St. Petersburg, I’m rush back to you.” 

“I wish you didn’t have to go,” Sidney says, quiet enough that Evgeni can probably barely hear it over the rest of the bustling at the dock. He knows it isn’t polite to whine like that, and he’s no right to demand more of Evgeni’s time than he’s already taken, no matter how much he wants it; Evgeni has a family and obligations back in Russia. 

“I’m wish I could stay,” Evgeni says, squeezing Sid’s hand once more. “And I will, someday.” He pauses for a second before he pulls back, and reaches into the inner pocket of his jacket. “It- know it isn’t polite to do, here, and I’m should talk to your family before doing anything more formal, but-” He presses something into Sidney’s palm, and when Sidney looks down, he finds that he’s holding a dainty silver locket. 

“It isn’t a ring,” Evgeni says, sounding nervous now. “But- I wanted to ask if you’d wait for me?”

“Mr. Malkin,” Sidney says, baffled for a moment before he smiles, blinking back tears. “You didn’t even have to ask. Of course I will.” 

“When I come back to you, I’m never leave again,” Evgeni promises, and for a moment Sidney thinks he’s going to kiss him, but just then, the ship’s horn blows, and people start gravitating towards the slipway, drawing Evgeni with him. “I’m see you in the fall, Sidney.” 

“I’ll write!” Sidney calls as he’s swept away, and Evgeni’s smile is brilliant enough that it lights up Sidney’s chest as he’s pulled out of sight. 

The locket feels heavy in his hands, but, he figures as he looks down at it once Evgeni and the steamer have fallen out of sight, a promise of that weight should be a heavy thing, even if it made his heart feel light.


	27. Memes

Sid looks like he’s on the edge of frustrated tears, and Zhenya feels his heart drop. 

“Hey,” he says, voice gentle as he sits down beside him on the couch, bumping shoulders. “You okay? What’s wrong?” 

“I just- I don’t  _get_ it,” Sid says, and he’s got an edge in his voice that tells Zhenya he’s trying his best not to sound whiny. 

“What you’re not get?” Zhenya throws an arm around Sid’s shoulder and resists the urge to draw him into his side. They’re technically in private, since no one else is in the team’s lounge right now, but it’s not private enough that he can get away with it. 

“They’re just my fucking  _shoes_ ,” Sid says after a few seconds of silence, and Zhenya looks down to see that he’d brought out the bright-yellow rubber abominations that the devil had named “Crocs” again. “And- I  _know_ Shearsy and the kids know what the fuck they are, but every time I say they’re my fucking  _Crocs_ , they  _laugh_ , and I don’t get what’s so fucking funny about it.” 

Zhenya is going to die trying to keep from laughing. “Sid,” he says slowly. “Is- meme?”

Sid frowns. “My  _shoes_?” 

“Little bit,” he says, pulling his phone out of his pocket with a long suffering sigh. “Is… young people thing, I’m show you, old man.” 

“You’re older than me,” Sid says, but he settles more into Zhenya’s side and sounds a little less frustrated. 

“Your soul is older,” Zhenya replies, and he manages to drop a quick kiss to the top of Sid’s head before Jake walks in. 

“Uh, hey Sid,” he says, and he sounds nervous, but also like he’s holding back a laugh, so Zhenya is immediately skeptical. “I’ve got a question?” 

Sid sits up, and oh god, Zhenya has a moment of whiplash where he thinks  _he’s going to fucking fall for it, isn’t he?_  “Yeah, what’s up?” 

“It’s just, uh,” Jake sucks in a deep breath before going into a deep lunge, both hands pointing at Sid’s shoes. “ _What are those?”_

Sidney looks  _incensed_. “For the  _last goddamn time_ ,” he hisses. “They. Are. My.  _Crocs!”_


	28. Wolves & Magic

He’s injured when Sid finds him; the smell of death leads him deeper into the woods than he’d intended, and he finds the wolf on a pile of leaves, using his final, wheezing breaths to snarl at Sid as he approaches. 

“Easy.” Sid sets down his basket and puts his hands up in a gesture of surrender as he creeps closer. The wolf gnashes his teeth at him, but Sid can see in his eyes that he’s more scared than anything, so he just smiles and kneels beside him. “I just want to help. Can I help?”

The wolf’s nostrils flare dangerously for a moment, and he cranes his neck to sniff at Sid’s hand. Sid’s still, and whatever the wolf finds there seems to satiate him, because the next sound that comes out of him was a long, pitiful whine as he lays his head down, whole body shuddering. “I’m gonna look you over,” Sid says, and he still moves slow even as the wolf huffs something he takes as permission. 

There’s gashes down the wolf’s side, deep cuts of claw and teeth that, had Sid been a few minutes later, probably would’ve take him already. As it were, he’s just enough time left to hum and sit cross legged on the forest floor, one hand carding through the wolf’s matted fur, comforting as he thinks of what he needs to do. 

“This is gonna hurt,” Sid warns, and the wolf just snorts again, teeth bared as if to say ‘I’m ready for it.’

Sid keeps petting down his back as he lays the other hand on the wolf’s wounds, and he mutters a prayer before he reaches deep, and calls up all the power he can muster. 

The wolf  _howls_ , and Sid does his best to quiet him even as his magic pushes its way through his body, knitting back together his broken skin and torn muscle. “It’s alright,” he says. “It’s alright, it’s alright.” 

The forest is silent once Sid’s magic retreats, the heaving breath that both he and the wolf are taking echoing off the trees. His wounds are closed, now, and the wolf is slow to rise, shaking out his back legs and circling Sid. 

He’s much bigger than a normal wolf, towering over Sid when he’s sitting and there’s something- human, behind his eyes, almost, that tells Sid that he most definitely  _isn’t_ just a normal wolf. “You should be alright,” he said, still catching his breath. 

The wolf blinks slowly, nosing at Sid’s hand and then his cheek. He seems grateful, and Sid can’t help but laugh. “You’re welcome,” he said. “And- if you’re ever in trouble again, I guess you can sniff me out.” 

The wolf blinks again, and Sid knows without having to be told that, if he could, he’d smiling. “I have to- go,” Sid said, slowly standing. The wolf whines, and he scratches behind one of his ears before he picks up his basket again. “I know you can find me, though, so- I’ll see you, again.” 

The wolf ducks his head in a nod, and stares at Sidney for a few more seconds before taking off through the woods. Sid watches him go, and waits until he can’t hear the crunching of leaves in the distance to leave. 

* * *

There’s a knock at his door a few days later, and Sid’s surprised to find that it is not, in fact, his Amazon delivery, but a tall, nervous looking man standing on his front porch, holding flowers. “I, uh,” the man starts. “I’m- hello.” 

“Hello,” Sid echoes, frowning a bit. The man was-  _very_ attractive, even with how scared he looked, but Sid had also never seen him a day in his life. Maybe Tanger had sent him one of those singing telegrams as a joke? “I… can I help you, are you lost?” 

“No!” the man says quickly. “No, I’m not lost. I- you’re say, if I’m ever need to, can find you again, but I- I just want to say thank you.” 

“I said-” It takes a few seconds for Sid to flash back to the woods, and the wolf, and- the man’s hair was the same color brown as the wolf’s fur had been, and the eyes had the same sleepy tilt, and- oh. “Oh. Right, yes. Hi, it’s… good to see you’re doing well.” 

“Want to give you these.” The man shakes the flowers at him a little, so Sid takes them, sure he’s grinning like an idiot. 

“Would you- do you wanna come in?” he asks, stepping aside. “I’m not busy or anything, and I’m making tea already, so.” 

“Would love to,” the man sighs, sounding relieved. “I’m- can call me Geno.” 

“Geno,” Sid says. “I’m Sid.” 

“Glad I’m find you again, Sid,” Geno says, and when he smiles, his canines are sharp, and a little dangerous looking. Sid wonders what they’d feel like on his neck. 

“I am, too,” he says, already thinking of how he’s going to get Geno to stay for dinner. 

It turns out, he doesn’t have to try that hard. 


	29. Wishbabies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> requested by @malkkins on tumblr!

Sid’s got a baby on each hip, and one still in the Cup, and Zhenya isn’t sure if he should be endeared or exasperated. 

“Can’t keep doing this, Sid,” he says, because the element of surprise is gone. This is old hat by now. The baby that’s still in the Cup is babbling and reaching out for him, so Zhenya picks her up; she’s got Sid’s eyes and Zhenya’s nose, and something warm blooms in Zhenya’s chest just looking at her. 

“I never  _mean_  to,” Sid says, but he looks so happy, Zhenya wants to call bullshit. He’s bouncing a bit and making the babies in his arms giggle. They both have some combination of his and Sid’s features, too, and it’s  _beautiful_. 

“I know,” Zhenya sighs. Even back in 2009, when they’d been working out how to balance playing and feeling, Sid had know what he’d wanted. There’d only been once, then, and they’d had no clue what to do. There were twins last year, and this year, they’d known to prepare a little- and, now, with three babies in the house, Zhenya’s just as scared as he is excited for their next Cup. 

“Do you think we’ll get to keep them, this year?” Sid’s voice is soft when he speaks up again, and so hopeful it makes Zhenya’s heart ache. 

“Not know, Sid,” he says, and watches Sid try to hold back a frown. “We see. Just… enjoy day we have, yes?” 

Sid nods, and Zhenya can see the cogs turning in his head as one of the babies starts to cry, and his attention’s pulled away. 

They don’t name them- or, not aloud. Zhenya knows Sid thinks about it, partially because  _he’s_ thought about it a lot, and partially because caught sight of a baby name website pulled up on Sid’s phone a couple nights before his Cup day. One day isn’t enough time to name a baby, though, and it would only make it harder when midnight came, and they were swept away again. 

They spend the day in familial bliss, but the sun sets sooner than Zhenya wants it to. He’s dead on his feet, and the babies are all tucked in an asleep by eleven, but Sid’s still awake, sitting on the couch and just- watching the Cup. 

“Sid,” he says, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Should come to bed.” 

Sid shakes his head. “If I go to sleep,” he says, voice wavering a bit. “They’re not gonna be here when I wake up.” 

Zhenya frowns. He hates this; he hates that they only get to have this one day a year, and the whimsy of some hundred year old chunk of metal. He hates that he and Sid have to  _wait_ to have a family, even though they’ve known for going on a decade that they  _wanted_ one. “They’re be gone no matter what,” he said. “Better just to go to bed, Sid.” 

“It isn’t  _fair_ ,” Sid says, and he  _never_  says things like that, never complains about his lot. “It- I want this. Me and you, and them, every day. Not just when we win the Cup.” 

“I know,” Zhenya says, squeezing his shoulder and sighing. “I know, Sid, and one day, we’re have. Promise. One day, I’m marry you, and we’ve have whole team of kids. Tonight, just… come to bed, please.” 

Sid’s silent for a long moment, as the clock ticks from half past eleven onward. “I’m not going to be able to sleep,” he says, finally. 

Zhenya smiles. It’s small, and it’s broken, but it’s a smile all the same. “That’s okay,” he says. “Just let me hold you. Be enough.” 

Finally, Sid nods, and stands, and they go to bed. 

* * *

It’s one in the morning, and Zhenya wakes up to crying. 

He groans for a second before he realizes what that means, and shoots up in bed. Sid’s already on his feet and rushing out, and- 

And, the babies are still there, all three of them. Zhenya could cry. Sid  _is_ crying. 

“We get to keep them,” he says, looking up at Zhenya as he pulls the crying one to his chest, bouncing him a bit. The baby settles, but Sid doesn’t. “Geno.  _Geno_.” 

“I know,” Zhenya says, and god, he’s not sure what he should do; he’s frozen in place, thoughts rushing by like cars on a freeway before one halts to a stop. “Should- think of names. Most important thing, think of names.” 

Sid laughs, quiet and giddy. “Get a laptop?”

Zhenya doesn’t have to be told twice. 

They’re on the couch until the sun rises, new family around them, and happiness radiating off of the both of them brighter than the sun could ever be.


	30. “Good luck trying to return me without the receipt."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Help- my partner got wine drunk and tried to set our marriage certificate on fire, saying “ good luck trying to return me without the receipt”. (Seen posted by help-mywife) - requested by Anonymous

Sid was more than a little tipsy. 

They’d been out most of the night with some of the guys, and he got a little too comfortable with wine in hand, and now that he was home, he was on a fucking  _mission_. 

“Come to bed, Sid.” Geno was standing in the doorway of Sid’s office as he riffled through the drawers, looking sleepy and concerned. “What’re you doing?” 

“Looking,” Sid hummed, and he crowed triumphantly when he found what he was looking for: their marriage certificate.  _Bingo_. 

“What you need that for?” Geno was  _definitely_ more concerned than sleepy, now, but Sid figured he’d appreciate what he was doing once he got through. 

“Things,” Sid said, pushing past him to go to the kitchen. “You know where we keep the lighter, G?” 

“ _Lighter_?” Geno scrambled to catch up to him, sliding into step with Sid. “Did I- something wrong?” 

“What?” Sid frowned as he started rooting through their kitchen drawers. “No, I love you. Things are great.” 

Geno made a distressed noise. “Then why you’re need that and a  _lighter_?” 

“Because-  _ha_.” Sid brandished their grill lighter and grinned. “I just- I love you? And I don’t- I was thinking about it, and I don’t ever wanna not marry you.” 

“Okay,  _yes_ ,” Geno said. “Love you, too, love you more than anything in the world, but- why this?” 

“Can’t return me without the receipt.” It made perfect sense to Sid, in the moment, so he had no clue why Geno was  _laughing_ all of a sudden. 

“You’re  _worst_ ,” he said, sweeping Sid up in his arms and kissing him. 

Sid was glad to be swept along, but made a short noise of protest when Geno wrangled the lighter away from him. “ _Hey.”_

“You’re thank me in morning,” Geno promised, kissing him again. “Put paper back, Sid, and let me take you to bed.” 

Sid frowned, but, bed with Geno was always a better offer to anything else he had to do at a given moment. “Fine,” he sighed. “You’re not getting a refund, though.” 

“Would never think of it,” Geno promised, dropping a kiss to Sid’s cheek before pushing him back towards the office. “Hurry up, think I’m not tired enough for bed yet, and want to see if you can make me.” 

Sid had never hustled faster in his life.

**Author's Note:**

> all of these are rebloggable @sidsknees on tumblr, under the tag "jumpin jack flash". thank u for ur tolerance.


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